Happy Accidents
by Meepa
Summary: Bakura Touzouku finally pissed off the wrong person and, without knowing it, his life is now in danger.  And that’s where Ryou comes in.  BakuraxRyou.  Cowritten with Pork Steak the Grande.
1. Beauty the Beast?

Ahurhur, hey there. This is co-written with my bombtastic buddy, Pork Steak the Grande. xD; I hope I'm helping make up for the lack of good Tendership stories on the web lately! D: ...Oh, and Bakura is quite a cusser. Enjoy that. And yes, this chapter does go a little slow around the middle, but shush. If you don't like it, skip over it.

I also made a lot of spelling mistakes and errors, and for that I'm sorry. My mind is really jumbled right now. And stuff.

Sorry I haven't updated _Illegal Aliens_. I'm kinda stuck right now on it. Dx

ANYWAY. On to the other stuff.

**Summary**: Bakura Touzouku finally pissed off the wrong person and, without knowing it, his life is now in danger. And that's where Ryou comes in. BakuraxRyou

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!.

**.: Chapter one - Beauty the Beast:.**

It was yet another time in his life that Bakura realized that no one was dependable. He was better off just assuming a job would never get done unless he did it himself. Of course, he himself wasn't very dependable in the first place, because _he_ tended to throw his work onto the pile of others'. But when he was determined, damnit, he was going to get things done! He grumbled to himself in a very agitated manner, having been called back into work after he had been let off early. Oh, heads would fucking _roll_. And now he was stuck in traffic. Fucking rush-hour traffic. God only knew how long he'd be jammed up in this stupid, filthy car. Though, it was only that way because he had let someone he considered something like a friend use it. He could smell smoke, and he was sure it was pot. He'd tried everything to get the damn scent out, but it clearly wasn't going to happen. His mood was shooting downwards, but it paused as the cars in front of him started to move. Finally, he was close enough to a side-road he could take that would cut his waiting time down at _least _a good hour. "About fucking ti–" but he never got to finish his sentence, because some dumbass ran in front of him, and he had to slam on his breaks to keep from hitting her. "Mother fucker!" he yelled as an automatic reaction out the window, which had been rolled down to air out the smell. But he had just barely finished saying that when he jerked forward, banging his head on the top of the steering wheel. Slightly shocked, but more furious than anything else, he looked into his rear-view mirror, catching sight of the culprit who had just rear-ended him. Growling, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, not caring about people honking at him, or the red mark on his forehead (which was letting itself be known by the pounding ache that was in synch with his heartbeat).

The pale-haired man stormed up to the window of the black, relatively expensive-looking vehicle. He pounded his fist a few times on the glass, which rattled harshly with every hit, before the guy driving rolled it down.

"You better have some fucking good insurance!" Bakura shouted, his dull blue eyes flashing like icy fire. It was fucking hot outside, and his hair was already starting to stick to the back of his neck. He did _not_ need to put up with this right now.

The driver glared up at him over his sunglasses, seeming a little bored. He was also wearing quite a bit of pricy jewelry and his clothes didn't exactly look cheap, either. What, just because this guy was rich, he thought he was better than Bakura? This made the lithe male growl. He reached in, just catching the startled expression on the other's face, and grabbed the glasses, ripping them off of the bulkier man. He threw them over his shoulder and into oncoming traffic, hearing them smash against the pavement. "You'd better be fucking happy I'm in a rush, or I'd fucking kick your ass!" he hissed, Baring his teeth afterwards. Looking at his watch, he realized that, even with the short-cut, he would be late. "Son of a bitch," he seethed, before he shot another look at the livid-looking man.

"What's your name?" came the barely controlled question. The paler of the two sneered.

"Bakura Touzouku. If you wanna fucking take it up with me later, I'll be waiting." But right now, he had to get to work. God, he really hated life...

As he started making his way back to his car, he glanced down and noticed that the rich-bitch's Mercedes wasn't even _scratched_. That enraged him more. And so, he kicked the front bumper as hard as he could, giving it a nice dent and scratching off some of the paint with the heel of his shoe. Feeling much more satisfied now, he got back into his own car, shooting another glare at the man as he screeched past. _'Fucking people who think they own the whole fucking world_', he ranted inwardly.

With that, he started his car again and continued on his way in a lot worse of a mood than he had begun with. The rest of the trip to work was, for the most part, uneventful. But as he got out, ready to walk through the front doors, he first swept around the back of his car and surveyed the damage. "Son of a bitch," he repeated under his breath and stomped off towards his office.

The entire time, he never once realized he was just lucky to be alive.

---

_'Don't screw this up, Ryou, don't screw this up...'_

Nervously, the twenty-two year old looked into the mirror, eyes washing over the long, lean frame. His hair was as pale as a winter's snow and his skin nearly matched; a hue of ivory. Nothing about the young male didn't look pure and likely, no one would've guessed that he was a day over seventeen. He was always carded and eyed with suspicion, no matter where he went. The funniest thing of all? He was the one least likely to break any law, no matter how big or small. Ryou, after all, worked for the state, and not just in some being office job. And after four long years of years of training, and several more of apprenticeships, he was finally an official agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Not only that, but he was also assigned to his first real case ever. He wasn't following under someone else's arm, trailing behind them – no! He was actually the one who would be leading. He was the one who was going to take on the case; not watch someone else do so.

Usually the F.B.I. worked with a team or group for each case, but this time it was just Ryou! Only Ryou! ...Well, alright, almost only Ryou. He did have to work with a partner, but that was because of protocol.

He was truly the youngest of the entire squad to worm his way out of being a fledgling. Normally, he would have at _least_ two more years of apprenticeship before this moment, but he had shown such extreme talent for his job, he needed no more time.

While he was almost excruciatingly excited about this, he was also utterly terrified that he was going to mess up. After all, if he messed up, even just a little bit, it would cost him his job or, at least, put him back on training with that man he absolutely _hated_ who always spat when he talked. Cringing at the thought, Ryou turned away from the mirror. That was really the last thing he wanted to do. Never ever again, would he have to work singlehandedly with that slob and Ryou would make damn sure of that.

The pale man tried to clear his mind of all the negativity it tended to cook up right before he had to do something that had quite a bit riding on it. Besides, his case wouldn't be too hard anyway. At least, that's what he hoped. All he really had to do was protect some poor fellow who chose to mouth off at the wrong moment. Apparently, according to case records (from both security footage and an agent who had already been trailing one of the men), a fight broke out and the anonymous bloke had a raging temper... only, this time, he used it against the worst person possible: one of the leading drug lords, one who had been arrested multiple times for solicitation, smuggling, and use of cocaine and other drugs but always managed to get away without so much as a scratch thanks to his well-paid (_very_ well-paid) lawyers. And he was currently after the poor guy who rubbed him quite the wrong way. Sources stated that the criminal also tended to suddenly be free of those who did just that within the span of only days. All Ryou had to do was watch and wait for any sign, and then he would alert the police, ultimately saving the stranger's life. The drug lord would then be arrested and would be charged with attempted murder, and with the evidence that would be gathered, he would be put away for life.

Simple.

Besides, it wasn't even like Ryou had to do much but keep an eye on the guy and hopefully start up some sort of platonic friendship so that he would have more opportunity to make his first case turn out perfect. Even if the male went out, a conveniently set-up surrogate apartment was directly next door to his, and cameras were also placed around the area, so everything was basically covered. Maximum protection – as much as one can get without being obvious.

"Oh, please let this be easy..." Biting down on his lower lip, Ryou turned around once more to make sure his work attire was alright. He was dressed in a button-down light blue striped shirt with a grey blazer matching some of the lines upon the shirt, a neatly tucked-in dark tie, and a simple pair of khakis, which clung nicely to his legs. He tried to look nice, as if he truly cared about this cover-job he was given and doing his best at it. Even if he wasn't really going to work there for long, it was still nice to impress the boss, right? He was to play the role of a writer for a sports magazine, and act as if he were really into that kind of thing. That was probably the hardest part for Ryou, since he couldn't remember watching a football game in his life. Still, he would do his best and maybe even watch a basketball game or two just so he could trick people into at least thinking he wasn't a complete homo– er...

So he wasn't a complete sissy.

Who preferred boring things like politics and books over going to a game.

So they wouldn't think _that_, not that he was... queer.

But his biggest hope was that he would fit in, even just a little...

"Bakura," he murmured the name slowly, liking the sound of the mystery man's name on his lips. A small smile spread across his face and he decided he was finished prissing himself up. He was going to try hard and do his best, not only for himself but mostly... for Bakura. "I'll do good and save his life, I'll do good and save his life! I will!" He had to repeat this mantra in his mind, making sure to get himself ready and sure for success.

And having finished giving himself a pep-talk, he was ready to roll.

Heading out into the living room, he grabbed his messenger bag and keys before heading out into the summer morning, face shining brightly as he noted how nice it was outside. "This is going to be a cinch."

Trampling down the stairs, Ryou make his way to his nice 98 Saturn and unlocked the door, hopping inside. Only a few minutes' drive, and he would arrive on location for his first mission.

---

As soon as the young , emerald-eyed man reached the office building, he parked his car in the garage before hurrying to make sure that he was a little bit early. Shyly, he stepped into the revolving door of the large lobby, glancing around at it. It really was big, even for a successful business! Everything inside was also sleek and well-polished. He could actually see his reflection in the tiled floor around the rugs bearing the Kaiba Corporation logo. Straight ahead of him was a smooth black desk with a woman sitting behind it, typing away at her computer, occasionally pressing buttons on the phone base, where several lights were flashing. She was speaking, and Ryou would have wondered who she was talking to, had she not turned her head in a way that he could see the mouthpiece attached to her ear. She seemed awfully busy, and the thin male wasn't sure he felt comfortable interrupting her. Though, he did need to if he was ever going to get anywhere.

Putting on a small, welcoming smile, hoping that he wasn't being too rude, and stepped up to her. She looked up and their eyes met. She then spoke the words, "Hold on one moment, please," before tapping a button again on the phone. She, too, smiled and looked him over quickly. "How may I help you, hun?" she asked, brushing a bit of blonde hair behind her ear with her manicured nails.

The informality of the last word was very comforting to Ryou, and he felt as if he hadn't done a thing wrong at all. "I need to speak to Mr. Kaiba?" he said, but phrasing it as a question, unsure of he should just ask for the location or if he had to wait. After all, Seto Kaiba was one of the most successful businessmen in the nation. Not only that, though, but he was also so high on the rankings, that he even broke into the title, "one of the world's best".

A red fingernail tapped against the reflective desktop. "Do you have a scheduled appointment?" she asked, looking up at him with her violet eyes. She seemed like a nice woman, and the outfit she wore was a dressy one, though it did dip down a little low in the front, and that made Ryou believe that she was outgoing and wanted to show herself off. It was funny what you could tell someone's personality by what they wore (or how they wore it).

"Uh, no, but this is my first day here and I was told I needed to speak with him...?" Did he need an appointment for that? He almost wouldn't put it past the corporate world, but...

The woman's eyes flashing and her face brightened up. "Oh, congratulations," she said, before turning and pointing. "Take the elevator up there to the twelfth floor. It'll be the door at the end of the hall – it's really hard to miss." Then she looked back to him, once more sizing him up. "You really don't look the type, but I suppose the whole 'book's cover' applies, huh?" Was she trying to make him comfortable, or just start up a conversation?

Ryou shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "I get told that a lot, actually," he said. He really didn't – not for sports. Considering his looks spoke the truth about that much. Then he waved to her a little, unsure as to what he was supposed to do for ending their chat. "Well, wish me luck!" he said, the words more or less spilling out of his mouth before he thought them through.

The blonde gave a quick chuckle and waved back at him, giving him a well wish before going back to her phone call.

Before the young man even reached Kaiba's office, he knew where he would be placed in the large building.

His words with the rather straight-laced brunette were short and clipped. Not out of rudeness, but more out of sounding like he didn't have time to walk Ryou through his job. After all, it wasn't as if he was really going to be doing much work, if any at all, and it was people like that Seto Kaiba really _didn't_ have time for. The F.B.I. had called him personally to make sure that he put Ryou in a specific spot, and allowed him to act as if he was employed there. Of course, he only allowed it after he had been assured numerous times (and in writing) that Ryou's being there would not affect anything at all, except that he had one more person in the building. For supervision purposes only.

As the said silver-haired man stepped out of the elevator, holding the box of supplies for his desk, he looked around at the long windows and bland-colored paint on the walls. The view was nice, even though it was only from the third floor; it was close enough to see people bustling down below, as well as some of the cityscape. It was only when he began taking in the people around him did he notice quite a few sets of eyes on him. He could feel the blood rising up into his face as he cast his vivid eyes downward, staring at the beige carpet. Even as a kid, Ryou had hated having people stare at him, as if he was some sort of freak show. It always made him nervous, sometimes even if people only looked him in the eye. The poor man tried to swallow the lump building up in his throat as he sensed, more than saw, someone approaching him.

"Hey! I didn't know we were getting a new guy." The voice didn't sound cruel or taunting, which caused the paler of the two to glance up, seeing a rather warm (though very odd) looking man standing before him. He had eyes that looked to be almost... red? No, that couldn't be. But even so, his hair was quite strange on its own. Blonde streaks of bangs, and a head of black hair that looked to be a maroon color as it spread out to the tip. It was also fanned out a little obscenely. The first through that came to Ryou's mind was, _'How much gel does he use...?_'

But the other stuck out his hand, breaking the younger man from his thoughts. "Welcome to _World Sports_! I'm Yami Mutou." Grasping Ryou's hand, he gave the slighter male a firm handshake. He was incredibly enthusiastic, and that alone unnerved Ryou. He wasn't really used to people being quite this friendly and forward.

"H-hi," he responded, trying his best to shake off his prickled nerves. "I'm Ryou Tamaki. It's nice to meet you." With a soft smile, he moved to make his way around the other and towards his desk, which, as of right now, looked entirely too empty. As he did so, another thought crept into his mind. When would he see Bakura?

But speak of the devil, and the devil will come. It was then that a pale hand shot out and pressed against the side of Yami's head, pushing him to the side somewhat and almost right into Ryou.

"Out of my way, asstard; you're blocking the whole damn walkway with your fat head." The words were spoken none too kindly and it sent a chill down Ryou's spine. That was the voice of a bully, a tone he knew too well from school. He almost couldn't bring himself to turn and look at the newcomer, worried that if he made eye-contact he might just be sought out and destroyed before he was able to finish his job here. But in the end, he couldn't stop himself, and the silver-haired man twisted his head around slightly, eyes trailing up to take in the sight of whoever was clearly not going to make anyone's day enjoyable. The first thing he noticed as he made his way up, was the scalding cup of coffee in the other's hand, the one that wasn't assaulting poor Yami Mutou, who was now walking away, muttering under his breathe and shooting a glare over his shoulder.

Though he had, at first, thought when he had seen the confrontation, _'What a jerk!' _After all, the guy hadn't even said sorry! He had _meant_ to do it! But... the other was giving off such a strange vibe, and it was causing the thin male to wonder exactly what off feeling if was giving him was.

The guy was about to keep walking when he suddenly paused, dull-colored eyes set on the fresh meat. An eyebrow was raised, and lips were parted in a small, questioning sneer. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, his voice rough – which, really, was his usual voice. His own eyes made to rake over Ryou, and the slightly shorter male shivered. This man was so eerie and dressed like a slob but he was undeniably handsome. He had tried to open his mouth to respond, but he found that his voice had gone somewhere else at the moment, and, even though this man was, indeed, a jerk, Ryou couldn't seem to stop himself from staring.

"I'm... Ryou Tamaki," he finally responded quietly.

While looking the kid over, the taller of the two came to a conclusion. This kid couldn't watch sports. He _couldn't_. Bakura just could not picture him watching a football game and getting into it – chips, beer, and all. In fact, he could easily imagine the other watching _cooking_, or the health channel. Hell, maybe even a home shopping network or something. Though, for a queer, the slighter man did look... unique? Maybe albino... but didn't they have red eyes or something? Eh, whatever.

Their hair looked similar, but it was more of a white-blonde (though the blonde was harder to see; it looked more gray than anything else), where the new guy's was... well, _white_. _Just_ white. It was actually a little freaky... Not to mentioned it looked to be as if it was brushed religiously more than once a day. Bakura's was lucky if it saw a comb once a day period.

Ryou was well dressed, though. He obviously took the time to make himself look more than presentable, whereas Bakura just threw on a work shirt and slacks, not even bothering to find a tie. His shirt hadn't been ironed, and he hadn't washed it the night before. He also still smelled like his car.

"Er, who are you?" questioned the younger-looking man softly, shyly. Unsurely. Bakura smirked but didn't respond, instead turning away, presumably to go to his assigned spot and set his drink down before getting to work. Though, Ryou really wasn't sure how committed the guy could possibly be when he came to work looking the way he did, but...

Trying to shake off the awkward confrontation, the green-eyed agent had moved over to his new desk, the whole time shifting through the box in his hands, having gone back down to his car to grab a few things to place at his desk after meeting Kaiba. One of those things was a picture in a thick, bright frame. He took it with him everywhere because it was the only one he had. He had taken it from his desk at his real job, unable to part with it. Even at school as a teenager and college student, he kept it in his backpack carefully enclosed as to not ruin it. It was one of the few things that had high value in his life. The picture frame itself had been one his sister had picked out as a child, one with insane colors and a cat playing basketball on it. He placed it on one of the corners, turned at an angle so that he could easily see it however he was sitting.

Taking out a small plant from the box, Ryou set it on the edge of his desk, and then moved to continue unpacking and getting settled in.

Meanwhile, the taller male had made it to his own "office", which was really more of a desk with file cabinets separating his view from some of the others in the room. The guy who had sat across from him (who had, unfortunately, been in clear view) had been fired. But he was an idiot, so he wasn't really missed at all, though now it seemed as if he would be getting a new neighbor. Joy. Bakura snorted at the thought, sitting in the chair and setting his coffee down before picking up a pencil that had been tossed carelessly atop the mess of scribbled and roughly handled papers. But hey... fresh meat _was_ fresh meat after all. He wanted to test the will and how far the newbie could be pushed before snapping. And with a flick of his fingers, the pencil spun across the small expanse of space, clacking against the pot that held the plant on the kid's desk, chipping part of the porcelain. A few grains of dirt slipped free from it, and would most likely continue to do just that until it was either patched up or thrown away. A smirk crept across the blue-eyed man's lips as he spoke, turning his gaze to the lanky male, who looked a little like a deer in headlights; frozen in place.

"I'm Bakura," he said, finally answering the other's question, and noting the look of irritation that was quickly melting into one of absolute horror on Ryou's ashen face. "I'll be here to make sure your time here is never dull."

**.: Chapter end :.**

If you enjoyed, drop a review and I'll post the next chapter sometime soon. I already have the next few typed up. xD

-Cecilia


	2. Bikinis and Free Drinks and Spiders O My

Bakura likes throwing writing utensils at people.

**.: Chapter two - Bikinis and Free Drinks and Spiders, Oh My!:.**

No... It couldn't possibly be. It just _couldn't_. Ryou hadn't really even been paying much attention to the other, and hadn't noticed him sit down at the desk that he knew Bakura would be at. But when he noticed it, it was only after he was about to snap at the guy for ruining personal property of his.

He continued to stand where he was, mind having come to a complete and utter screeching stop. This couldn't be Bakura. This could not possibly be the man that he had to protect for however long. Maybe he was just joking –_ 'Oh, God, please let him be joking!'_

Ryou knew he was about to throw up.

Eyes darting back down to his poor plant which wouldn't be able to be watered until it got a new pot, the effeminate male felt a tremor of anger scuttle down his spine. That... that...

DICKHEAD!

Dull? No, his life here clearly wouldn't be _dull_ but it would be very, very far from enjoyable as well! Hell, would it even be _livable_? Ryou was having doubts about his case for the first time. Sure, he had been worried, but he hadn't realized that the man he was supposed to watch was going to act like a three year old having a temper tantrum! How _dare_ he touch someone else's things and break them without having even asked to mess with it beforehand! "Jerk," he muttered, having met the other's maliciously amused gaze with his own aggravated one. Bakura was going to make his life shit, wasn't he? And all for fun on his part...

Ryou had to get rid of his anger, he knew he had to. Stress would cause him to mess up (and though he now royally hated having a case all to himself, pining for having to sit in a room and bounce ideas off of that terrible spitting man...), and he had to prove that he could hold his own, even against assholes. He was better than this, and he wouldn't give Bakura the satisfaction of hurting him. But how could someone so handsome be so terrible...?

The young man nearly jumped straight out of his skin at a sudden shout from somewhere near him. "Bakura, you asshole!" – Well, clearly someone had the same thoughts as Ryou did. The boy couldn't possibly imagine how many people wanted this man dead – "What did you do that for?!"

Bakura obviously was startled too, but he hid it much better than Ryou did. The latter turned, looking at a brunette woman standing a few feet behind him. She was pretty, but looked to be a tomboy. '_She must be one if she's working here.'_

Growling, the larger male shot her a less-than-pleased look. He seemed as if he was about to hiss something at her, but his mouth remained closed. Fuck her for having power over him and using it. But he wouldn't have had long to say much of anything anyway, because the girl spoke up again.

"Why is it you always have to be such a prick and go after the new people? God, I swear!" Stepping over to his desk, while Ryou's eyes widened and his mouth dropped slightly, she lifted her hand and smacked Bakura on the head, causing the older man to wince and bat her hand away. But he didn't retort, nor did he attack her as Ryou would have expected. Instead, he remained seated, his hands on his desk clenching into tight fists, as if to keep himself from actually going after her, seething silently. But his eyes spoke loudly enough. They looked like a raging inferno.

Ignoring him, the cerulean-eyed girl moved back to Ryou, smiling warmly at him. It was amazing how quickly she had gone from (a little violently) angry to this. "Hi!" she beamed, extending her hand. "I'm Anzu!"

The slighter male smiled back a little awkwardly, though he felt as if he'd just been protected. Which he had. But that also might have been why he found it so strange in the first place... "I'm Ryou," he answered, taking the hand. "And, thank you," he added, more quietly. He really was grateful for having someone stick up for him. God, would he need it around here... His emerald orbs once more flicked to the furious-looking Bakura before going back to Anzu.

"No problem," she responded, before brushing some hair out of her face. "Listen, don't let that prick bother you, okay? If you ever have problems, come see me. I'll be _more_ than happy to help you out." As she said this, she, too, shot a look at the aformentioned prick. Besides, all she had to do was say a few words to Seto, and Bakura would finally be canned. She would love nothing more than to see him packing his things and leaving, but she also enjoyed holding her revenge over his head, too. As long as he was a good little boy, he was safe. That is, until he slipped up again, big enough to get him tossed out on his ass.

At a small sound from Ryou's direction, she shifted to follow his gaze. He was eyeing the spot on the carpet which had previously been clean, but now had some dirt on it, as did the corner of his desk. The poor guy... "Don't worry," she reassured, letting her hand brush against his shoulder in a friendly manner. "We'll get that cleaned up and I even have an empty copy-paper box that you can put under that to prevent more mess."

It was then that Ryou realized that he had a savior in this job that had, only moments ago, seemed like Hell itself. He smiled brightly at her, and nodded his head. If this woman just mothered him for a few days, he knew he would be safe. Safe from Bakura. But... only at work. He was free game when it came to personal hours, wasn't he? Ryou tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he repeated in a murmur, following her as she lead him around, showing him where everything was, and even introducing him to a few people.

Bakura, meanwhile, was still boiling in his hatred for Anzu Mazaki, wanting to do nothing more than pay her back for her little games. "Bakura, get me some coffee," or "Bakura, would you be a _dear_ and do this for me?" and even "Bakura, you wouldn't mind running up to the seventh floor to deliver this, would you? The elevator's broken, and I don't know if I can make it in these heels..."

He had played with the thought of "accidentally" knocking the styrofoam cup on the edge of his desk onto her, but he had let it go in the end. Besides... as much as he hated to admit it, she did own his ass, metaphorically speaking. And that alone made Bakura want to murder a small animal. How had he fucked up so badly? Even when he was drunk, he figured that he had some sense of good judgement. Clearly that was not the case, however, considering where he was now, and had been for the past several weeks. He wished more than anything else that he could take that one night back. Just one fucking night. And sleeping with a co-worker... Well, that was enough to get Anzu fired, but since Bakura was well-known for being pushy and usually getting his way, the blame would automatically turn to him.

She probably wasn't such a bad person in reality, if one liked bubbly women with fiery attitudes. They had gotten along rather well at one point. That changed, of course, after the "night of bad decisions". Who the fuck was she to tell Bakura that she'd "had better"?! And of all the nights that he could have chosen to try new things, it had to be then. Not only did she have blackmail aimed at his job, but she also had some fucking nasty "fetish" stories that weren't even true... not in the long-run. That, she would use to spread around the building, and he would never live it down.

Not to mention the fact that he really was on his last legs here. He had gotten many warnings in the past, and the head of the company was finally getting fed up and to the very end of his rope. The only reason he hadn't fired Bakura after the first complaint was that the man was good at what he did when he actually did it. They had gotten better reviews for their columns and articles since the self-centered bastard had arrived, but that wouldn't stop him from getting rid of the guy.

Bakura began to thump his forehead against the surface of his desk, knowing that his headache from the day before would probably return, but right now, he didn't care. Maybe he had some strange head injury – a concussion or something, and would pass out and not have to remember any of this.

Not only had Anzu turned all bleeding-heart on the new kid – Ryou? That was such a girly name! – but she had also let the guy think that Bakura was a push-over. And that was the _last_ thing he was. He would make sure that he got that point across when the brunette wasn't around. He was silently thankful that she hadn't told him to clean up the mess he'd made. That fucking bitch, she loved humiliating him... It wasn't like he'd really even done anything bad, either! He'd just ruined a pot that was a damn eyesore to look at. Who the hell put plants on their desks, anyway? The kid must be a total fruit...

Not that he didn't look the part or anything.

Grumbling irritably, Bakura lifted the cup of coffee to his lips, taking a large sip, attempting to ignore the searing ache that scalded its way down his throat as he did so. At least now his tongue would be numb so he wouldn't have to taste the bile when he thought about what he'd done to that girl that night...

He was interrupted from his thoughts when a man from a few desks down rolled his chair over to Bakura. "Dude, I need to fill up five pages for the Summer Sports section, and I can't get anything that someone isn't already doing an article on!"

Rolling his eyes, the fair-haired male took another sip of his drink, eyelids fluttering slightly at the pain. After swallowing, he sighed and waved his hand, wondering why these people were hired in the first place. What was this kid's name anyway – Katsuya? Something like that... Though, Bakura had thought he'd heard several people call him "Jou". "Just do volleyball."

The blonde stared at him with deep amber eyes, as if he couldn't quite understand how that would possibly fill up five pages. "Volleyball?" he repeated. "Who the hell would read five pages about volleyball?"

Bypassing the urge to slap his forehead, Bakura was busy muttering under his breath and making quite a few other signs that he was getting annoyed and wanted to be left alone. Then he suddenly came to look like an impatient boss who had to deal with a lame-brained employee. "What are you, a fucking idiot?" he asked, seeing the other change, his demeanor speaking about how he took those as fighting words. Which they were, but Bakura didn't really wish to physically brawl the guy.

"Just go to the beach and get some girls in the tiniest bikinis and the biggest tits you can find to smack a ball around a few times. Snap pictures of them, and then enlarge them to fit on most of the page. No one's going to read your retarded article, so you can write about a cow fucking a tractor and no one would notice. It'll be a bit hit for the guys who want to get their pants down, trust me."

Deciding not to start up an argument over the other's blatant rudeness, Jounouchi just sighed, scooting his chair back over to his area. He would have asked someone else for their opinion and help, but... Bakura, as much of an asshole he was, was damn good at his job when he actually did it. He knew what would sell, and what wouldn't.

'_Too bad he's so miserable to be around...'_

---

By the time the mess was cleaned up, Ryou knew as much about Anzu as he did all of his friends combined. That girl could really talk! Not that he minded, of course. He much preferred that to having to speak about himself anyway. It was not so much that he hated what had happened, but – well, he really did, actually... but there just wasn't much to say, so he tended to avoid the subject whenever possible. All he cared for was the here-and-now, and he didn't like to look too far into the past or even the future. Either way though, he liked Anzu a great deal and he knew that she, if no one else, would at least be a good acquaintance and possibly good protection against Bakura. Though, thinking back on it, having her jump to his defense did make him seem like more of a wuss – not to mention that it would most likely make Bakura aggravated and fight harder...

He sighed.

What a great way to start out the first day, huh? But, well... who knew? Maybe the future would hold brighter things? Part of his mind doubted it, but he could always hope, right...?

Sitting down in the uncomfortable wheely chair, Ryou grabbed the papers that he had been given and began to actually do his job – both of them.

The day was passing much slower than was enjoyable, and it was boring as well. No bombs went off, no fires started – not that Bakura was expecting any of that to actually happen, mind you, but it would have been a nice change. But where noon found him was close to dozing off, not so much _because_ it was boring, but considering he had gotten a less than desirable amount of sleep the night before...

Besides, he was almost done with his section of the magazine that was due to come out in a month. He just had to look over it and edit it – it was all pretty rough right now. Yawning, he glanced towards the window, watching the dull colors of the buildings around them. Then he realized, after a moment, that he couldn't hear the droning of the city two stories below; only the sound of typing and shuffling of paper could be heard, as well as soft murmurs of conversation. Overall, the white noise did nothing to wake him up. Heaving a sigh, his pale eyes shifted and began scoping out the large room, slowly growing agitated with his predicament. He couldn't take off early, and there was nothing to do! With a thump, his head hit the desk again, but he didn't repeat the action. Instead, he lifted up on of his arms which had been hanging limply by his side, using it as a pillow for his head to lie on, his chin resting against it. With his other hand, Bakura began tapping a pen noisily against the wooden tabletop.

As he idly watched the pen move, his eyes focused on what was behind it, before the tapping slowly came to a pause, as the larger male found himself watching Ryou. The kid was so quiet and seemed to be all about business and getting his work done.

What a fag.

Ugh, could the guy _be_ more boring? Then his eyes slid back to the pen in his hand. They shifted over to Ryou. The pen. Smirking, he flung it in the other's direction, watching as it make contact directly with the other man's head. Bull's eye!

"Ow!"

Instead of acting like he hadn't done it, which one would have expected him to, as Ryou's head shot up as well as a bony hand which went straight for the pained spot, Bakura stared right into the other's green eyes, as if daring him to say anything about it. Then an idea hit him, and he moved to grab his stack of articles. Why should he have to check his own work when Mr. Prim-and-Proper could do it for him? Besides, the guy was clearly an editor anyway. "Hey Fairy," he said, waving his papers in front of him. He completely ignored that fact that Ryou had a name. "This needs to be looked over." And he said it like he was expecting the other to actually do it without question.

Ryou, however, found the situation much less amusing. He had actually gotten a lot done though his stack of work had been piling up. He had mainly been placed in the spot of editor because he had gotten a major in English on the side of criminal justice. He most probably would have become a writer or something along those lines had he not taken up the profession that he had. After realizing that he was getting hungry, however, his mind had started to wander off as to what he should get for lunch. It was then that Bakura had broken his thoughts, not with words but with a damn _pen_. It was one thing to crack his plant's pot, but now he was catapulting things at Ryou's head, too? This couldn't have been any more immature. Bakura had to be at _least_ twenty-five! Why was he acting like a five-year-old? It really was too obvious as to why someone would want his neck.

After rubbing the afflicted spot on his skull, Ryou let his hand fall, glaring at Bakura as he got up. "Well, you didn't have to throw something at me to get my attention," he murmured, trying to keep a calm tone somehow, even though he as a little more than mildly ticked off. His anger had dispersed from earlier, but now it was back, full-force. But he was the bigger man of the two, obviously, since he was actually making an effort to be civil, especially as he walked over the blue-eyed male's desk and moved to take the papers from his outstretched hand.

"I know I didn't. But it's so much more fun that way," Bakura said smoothly, a cocky smirk resting upon his lips. It stayed that way until Ryou's finger came into contact with one of his own. The kid froze, feeling more than a little awkward.

"Sorry," he quickly said, eyes turning down to the carpet as his face was pumped full of blood, before he turned back to his own desk, sitting down and shutting up. He didn't make anymore eye contact with the other, seeing as how he was a little mortified that he had done something that would be considered flirting by most people. And since Bakura had called him "Fairy", Ryou felt that he was doomed from that moment on. He'd already been pegged as gay, and now he'd accidentally flirted with the man he loathed and was supposed to protect.

Bakura, though, had immediately moved to turn away, typing at his computer with his free hand, waiting to get the other one back, not even thanking Ryou for looking over his work for him. He hadn't a clue that they had touched, his mind having already wandered away from his new plaything. But he swirled his chair around slightly, a frown set upon his brow, one raised, as he eyed the other. "The fuck are you sorry for?" Was he not going to edit Bakura's articles or something? Or was he trying to "patch things up" between them, hoping that he would be safe from pestering? The thought made Bakura cringe. Oh, good God. Not another bleeding heart... The office already had at least two! The pale-eyed man wasn't sure that he could stand another.

But his response had lightened Ryou's worried quite a bit. Obviously Bakura hadn't noticed, else he would have ruthlessly attacked him for it, but... Rolling his eyes, the agent shook his head. Was there any male on Earth as rude as the one in front of him? He honestly wasn't sure there was. "Nevermind," he murmured quietly, figuring it was best to just let the subject drop.

Reaching out to snatch a red pen, Ryou looked down at the stack in front of him. He had quite a few pages to get through, and maybe he could be done before lunch. The thought was enough to motivate him to start on them immediately.

Several minutes of silence between them passed, as Bakura continued to punch in the keys, eyes watching the flat screen of the monitor. He really had nothing better to do than check his e-mail – the work one, anyway, since personal things like that were forbidden in the workplace – and blinked when he saw a new mail in his inbox. Apparently one of his idiotic coworkers was going out to party at a bar and celebrate the finishing of this month's magazine (which had been increasingly more annoying to get done, because this was one of the worst seasons to write about – it was slow, and nothing really even started happening until Fall. Not to mention there was nothing exciting to take note of, either. He himself had nearly thirty pages worth of shit, but at least he'd put in his part). But idiotic though he was, he would probably end up buying drinks for everyone, if nothing more than the first few rounds. And a free night of drinking, especially on a Friday, was not something Bakura would pass up unless he had some actual plans. That and he would also be pretty damn glad when this issue blew over. But then he remembered that he had to go and interview some of the players of some just-starting-up baseball team, who not only sucked, but were sore losers at that. Of course, this wouldn't be until next week, so for now, he figured he should spend his time the way he wanted. Hell, he'd probably need a good buzz just to get through the damn things...

"Hey Fairy," he called again, adopting that as Ryou's new name.

The kid bristled, burning eyes darting up through his white bangs to send a hateful look Bakura's way. "My name's _Ryou_." If there was one thing that pissed him off more than another, it was disrespect like _that_. Ryou wasn't usually one to fight back but some reason, this guy really was pushing his buttons. All of them. _Hard_. Frowning, he had to sink his nails into his palm, to keep himself calm.

'_No, Ryou, you idiot! You're supposed to be protecting him, not wanting to kill him yourself! Don't fall for the bait!'_

But Bakura didn't seem put off by this in the least. In fact, his expression looked more like 'I've been here longer than you and you're in my territory'. "I know your name," he replied, waving his hand slightly. "You've said it, what, twice now?" Both of his hands continued up before he slipped them behind his head. He then leaned the chair back, trying to balance it against the wall, so that his legs dangled in the air. "You really need to improve your memory. You don't want to go around repeating everything like a fucking parrot."

The aggravation that had been pushed out of the immediate path sprang back again, and Ryou was livid with how he was being treated. _'Know my name? You sure have a funny way of showing it! I bet your forgot and are trying to be an ass to cover it up!'_ Inwardly, the smaller male wished he was eight years old again so that he could legally walk up to Bakura and punch him. Who knew? Maybe it would do him a little good! Maybe it would even make his obviously damaged brain quit malfunctioning and _maybe_ put a little thoughtfulness into his head! Lord knows it would do the guy a _lot_ of good. He was interrupted from his thoughts, however, by the object of dislike.

"Got any plans Friday night?" Bakura asked, that damned smirk never leaving his features. After all, it was always fun to get the newbie drunk and coax him into doing utterly ridiculous things. The office would have something to tease him about for at least a good week or two.

Ryou, however, was taken aback by the question. His mind raced, and he couldn't really think too clear. What were Bakura's motives? He had to have them – he _was_ a bully and was continually proving that fact. But... Ryou also had to watch the guy... In the end, he would have to take up whatever offer there was, right? He could only hope that it wouldn't be something completely and utterly horrible...

"I... don't," he finally answered, frowning a little, anger still bubbling within his chest. "Why do you ask?" It was obvious the larger male didn't like him at all, so _why_ was he asking Ryou if he had plans? Maybe because the lithe man was an easy target, or had been dubbed so (thanks to his job, he knew how to defend himself very well), and would walk right into some cruel joke. That sounded right up Bakura's lane – do everything he possibly could to make Ryou want to kill himself.

"We're having a small get-together at a bar on Friday. Wanna come?" Of course, he didn't sound so much as if he were trying to be friendly. For the most part, his motives were unclear, and even though Ryou wanted nothing more than to hide away in his temporary home, away from the handsome monster Bakura, away from this bullying... he still knew, in the end, that he would answer yes. He wasn't a very big drinker, but...

"Dumbass Mako is probably going to be the one paying for the drinks." The sneer refused to leave Bakura's lips, especially at wracking up someone else's bill by indulging himself in the wonderful stress-reliever known as alcohol. At least, it wouldn't have left had he not noticed something move out of the corner of his eye. Said blue orbs turned to one of his shoes, which had moved to rest on the edge of his desk. It took him a slow-motion millisecond to realize what it was and he threw his arms back, palms flat against the wall, bracing him there while he kicked his foot out, flinging the horrible thing off of his shoe and causing it to be launched into the air.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ!" he shouted, staring wide-eyed at the biggest fucking spider he had even seen in person his entire life. It was larger than his hand and it was covered completely in black, bristly hair. It was also currently scurrying across the floor and turning around the corner into the hallway, before sliding its way under the door of the women's restroom. "Fuck!" Bakura continued, is heart racing at a hundred miles per hour, unbelieving that a fucking _tarantula_ had gotten into their building and to the third floor. He was still too startled to really think very much on that subject, much less care about the looks he was being given.

It was then that the same young-looking blonde from before came rushing over to his desk and slammed both of his hands down on it, causing the paler of the two to twitch at the loud sound.

"Bakura! Did you see a tarantula around here?" As if the guy screamed randomly about nothing and flailed wildly for shits and giggles.

Giving the brown-eyed man an incredulous look, it became clear that realization was dawning on the older male's face. "What the _fuck_, Katsuya!" He couldn't give the time to wonder if that really was the guy's name or not. "Don't fucking bring your big-ass, fucked up pets here!" Clearly, he was still very much disturbed by what had just happened. "I swear to fucking God, you're lucky I don't kill you! Or better yet, get your ass fired, _then_ kill you!"

The blonde shook his head, shaggy hair swinging around his face. "You know I wouldn't do it unless I had to!" he pleaded. "My friend gave it to me to take care of, and it's been acting sick! So I brought it in – just for today! But it got out of its cage, and–"

A horrified shriek from the women's restroom cut him off effectively, and it was followed by a loud, muffled thud. Jounouchi paled considerably, before he bolted down the hall, throwing open the restroom door. This caused a new round of screaming and yet another thud, which didn't stop at just one.

Ryou, who had been startled out of his wits by the sudden strange fit Bakura went into, now could hardly stop himself from laughing at the scene. Little Miss Muffet! What a fitting nickname for Bakura that would make! He couldn't really keep his mouth pressed tightly together anymore as the blonde man came darting out of the restroom, a roll of toilet paper following shortly after him, aimed at his head but instead only bounced off of his back. With one hand he was covering his head, his arm having turned red from being hit with God-only-knew-what by the female who was currently screaming at him from the doorway. The other one held the struggling arachnid against his chest until he was back at his desk, dumping it into the plastic container on the floor next to his feet. He was panting, and the spider was clearly upset as it clawed uselessly at the sides.

"Jesus, I feel like I'm in a fucking sitcom," Bakura grumbled angrily, a rough shudder running through him at the memory of how fucking close that... that _thing_ had been to getting on his clothes. He shot a glare at Ryou, who had tears streaming down his face, remembering the expression on tough-guy Bakura as he hollered like a little girl. Well, okay, slightly deeper than a little girl, but still! Priceless! Any agitation he still had from the previous conversations fluttered out of his mouth as he chuckled, feeling his spirits brighten amazingly. And boy, did he need a good laugh after how the day had been going...

"Shut the fuck up!" the dull-eyed man barked, standing up out of his chair and leaning over his desk, baring his teeth at the younger male. But Ryou was hardly affected right now, though he did cover his mouth with his hand to stifle himself a little.

When he finally calmed down, Ryou's eyes were sparkling brightly, filled to the brim with amusement. He wondered vaguely if he should hold the other's arachnophobia against him later, but he instantly felt guilt over it. He wouldn't sink to Bakura's level. But nonetheless, it didn't stop him from enjoying himself for now. And so, with pleased expression, he spoke.

"I'll be sure to free up my Friday for you."

**.: Chapter end :.**


	3. The Big Bang

This was written while I was half-asleep. Enjoy the errors and poorly written bits.

**.: Chapter three - The Big Bang :.**

Bakura, who was clearly not a very blissful person, felt anger bubble up into his mouth like molten bile. This kid was fucking with him! He thought it was absolutely fucking hilarious! "Shut the hell up!" he snapped again, ignoring what Ryou had said. Those who had previously been smirking at the sight of Jounouchi, or perhaps even Bakura, dealing with the creature quickly deadpanned and either continued watching the verbal fight, or turned back to their work.

Ryou, who had taken the first irritated set of words lightly, was shocked by how absolutely furious the older male looked now. All he had done was laugh! He wasn't even holding the damn incident against the guy!

"You think it's funny?" Bakura cut in, sneering over at the green-eyed male, "Well I'm sure you'll think it's fucking _hilarious _when I stop being so nice to you."

The agent was now out of his own chair, standing as well and facing the other man off in a glaring war. "Well, maybe I wouldn't _laugh_ at you if you hadn't made such a fool of yourself!" Hadn't he decided not to fall down to Bakura's level? Well, whatever. He was past really caring too awful much about his image. Of course, once his mind caught up with his mouth, he realized that now he would never be free from the guy. Bakura would always hunt him down and make every single moment of his life Hell. He might have just gotten off with a week of "initiation bullying", but that would never be any longer. But then, Ryou wondered what exactly could be done to him – surely the older male would get fired after pulling off one-too-many childish pranks taken too far, right? And that was what he deserved – to be thrown out of this professional business. Who in their right mind would hire Bakura, anyway? He was a good-for-nothing slob who didn't even do much of his own work. Ryou even questioned himself as to whether or not the other even wrote the article that he had been editing.

Ice burst into a roaring inferno as Bakura bristled, teeth gritting, mouth open enough to see the slightly elongated eye-teeth. "Fool?" he asked, his voice a deadly tone. How dare that little _nobody _talk to him like that. How fucking _dare_ he! The brat had only been here for a single day, and Bakura for _years_. Hell, the other looked quite a few years younger than him, too! The blue-eyed man expected _some_ respect, even though he was a royal asshole and knew it. Ryou wasn't supposed to bite back when he was bitten. He was supposed to back down, to cower.

The hateful sneer upon the older's lips quivered and turned into a more spiteful one, the owner's eyes flashing dangerously. "Better to be a fool than a fag."

A low blow though it was, Bakura knew that no one who ever fought a clean battle won.

Ryou flinched slightly, but he refused to avert his own emerald orbs from the other's. A fag? At least _he_ wasn't terrified of spiders more than one-hundred times smaller than his own body. '_Better to be gay than a sissy against insects,_' he thought bitterly and pondered over speaking that aloud before someone suddenly broke the thickly lain tension by getting up, coat and wallet in tow, and left the room.

After only a moment, the rest of the others followed suit.

Thank God for lunch break.

Ryou, keeping the gaze, stood up, making his way to the elevator. He had to get out of this building and away from Bakura. He just couldn't be around to do his job right now, and it was just an hour. Nothing could happen in an hour. Besides, even if someone got to the guy, Ryou wasn't really sure he'd be too upset. Lose his job status, yes, but he wouldn't miss Bakura at all.

But instead of following the herd, the writer stood where he was, glaring at the spot where Ryou disappeared to. '_That little bitch..._'

Oh, he would most definitely make sure the new kid got the fucking message.

After everyone had gone, he walked from around the side of his desk before moving to sit behind Ryou's own. There was nothing special about the desk, computer, or chair. There was nothing special about _Ryou_. He was just some fruit that Kaiba must have been a little drunk while picking out. Of course, if the guy was an editor, he wouldn't have to like sports much, or be very manly at all. Fuck, he was practically a woman! Like a secretary. Sitting around and doing what everyone else asked him to.

Chilled eyes rolled over to the photograph inside a ridiculous frame. It was obviously geared towards children, judging by the bright colors and the ridiculous image in the corner. The picture, however, was presumably of the kid's family. Everyone looked almost identical, save for who could only be the father. And had the little girl not been wearing a sundress, Bakura would have had to stare or just take a wild guess as to which one was Ryou. Or, fuck, maybe that _was_ him as a child and he had an equally gay brother who decided not to crossdress.

Reaching out, his long, slightly tanned fingers gripped the side of the frame, lifting it off of the surface, before bringing it closer to his face. They looked so happy. This kid probably had never had many problems at all. Financial difficulty or otherwise. The mother, though, was beautiful. He would admit that. The kid apparently got his eyes from her. Hell, he looked exactly like her, save the rack.

"Too bad," Bakura murmured, the ill-intentioned smirk creeping up on his mouth again. "He probably would have been hot as a chick. At least he'd have something I could look at." As the tall male said this, he pulled the thin, aged photograph from underneath the glass, revealing its slightly tattered edges which had frayed and turned white. The texture of the paper was obviously from an older print shop, which meant it wouldn't tear as easily. Pity.

Standing up, he began walking towards the elevator, opening a drawer to his desk, dropping the picture inside it, and slamming it shut before making to leave the building for lunch. Being pissed off always made him hungry.

---

It couldn't have been more than twenty-five minutes later when Ryou stepped out of the open doors which shut behind him and onto his floor. He felt much better now that he had been able to eat, and his full gut helped to ease his stress. He also had been able to think over the conflict from earlier, and he realized that it really was trivial. He should just grit his teeth and bear it – besides; even though Bakura was the largest, filthiest, and least attractive (personality-wise) assholes he had ever had the displeasure of dealing with, he still had to do his job. And if he let the bully get to him, then he was proving he _was_ a push-over. And Ryou was, by no means, a push-over.

As he sat down in his less-than-euphoric chair, the wheels sliding back minimally as he did so, the agent caught a spot of white out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over without much concern, his face instantly changed, the color dripping from it and into his belly which was making him feel terribly sick. His picture...

Without hesitation, his mind instantly threw out an image of Bakura's grinning face, and Ryou felt the anger that he'd let go flood back into him like water after the breaking of a dam. "That fucking prick," he growled, seeing absolute red. And, if by nothing other than sick, twisted irony, the devil himself walked around the corner and into the green-eyed man's line of vision. He looked rather normal as he held a black dish of noodles with one hand, and was shoveling them into his mouth with a pair of chopsticks with the other, though Ryou could sense the unspoken gloating. The satisfaction that he had fulfilled his duty to make someone absolutely hate him.

He wasted no time at all in practically leaping to his feet, an uncharacteristically innocent mask set upon his usually gentle features and walking over to the older male's desk, as Bakura eyed him with a raised eyebrow, his full mouth barely hiding his amusement. How fucking immature could a fully grown man be?

And that malicious enjoyment lasted not much longer than a few seconds before Ryou, quite suddenly, bent over his desk, his expression not matching the look in his eyes. In a flash of second thought, Bakura wondered if this was the kind of silent psychopath that chopped people up after a certain distance of unkind pushing.

"So, you pompous dickhead," Ryou began, his voice disgustingly sweet but the sugar only coated deadly acid. The words completely shocked Bakura, who swallowed his bite a bit earlier than he would have liked, seeing as how he hadn't chewed quite enough to prevent a lump from clogging his throat. But it slipped down without giving him much problem aside from scratching at the muscles of his neck. "Where exactly did you stash my picture?"

The kid never missed a beat.

His hands shot out and instantaneously dug into the wrinkled collar of the other man, before, with unnatural strength for someone who looked so lanky, pulled Bakura up so quickly he dropped what was left of his meal onto his desk, his crotch banging against the sharp bend of the wood, wide and startled eyes looking up into hateful emerald ones.

Ryou only hoped he was choking the guy, which Bakura verified with the touch of flush that was slowly blotching around his face, but the guy was too shocked to react as of yet. He'd obviously never been manhandled before. Funny that the "Fairy" was the only one who had the balls to do it.

'_If he thinks I'm actually scared of a dumbass like him, then he's sorely mistaken._'

"So," the shorter male continued, looking very much like a serial murderer from a cheaply made horror movie before he sliced his victim up; overly cheerful smile, but grotesquely dark eyes. "Speak up Bakura, before I make that fat mouth of yours do it for itself!" The mask dropped and his fingers tightened until his knuckles faded white, his teeth gnashed together tightly.

Ryou Hikari, or, in this particular case, Ryou Tamaki, rarely ever lost his temper. No, he was a good boy, a clean-cut one who was never late and always did his best. He wanted to help others and impress his boss. But he also would not stand for someone acting like this without having anyone to stand up to them–

His rant was cut short as he heard the elevator ding, signaling that it was about to open. As quick as he had lashed out, he threw the other back into his chair, causing it to roll back and slam against the wall behind it, Bakura still looking as though he had been utterly frozen.

The said older man hardly even heard the footsteps coming their way, and didn't pay Jounouchi any mind as his caught up to what had _actually_ just happened. '_What the fuck! This kid's a fucking schizo!_' Getting to his feet abruptly, he lifted an accusing finger at the other, blocking out all that was around him. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you!" he shouted, causing the soft thump of shoe heels hitting the flat carpet to pause.

Jounouchi stood awkwardly, having had a pleasant lunch hour (but then, he enjoyed eating quite a bit – how could someone _not_ love it?), eyeing the two men who had clearly not gotten over their fight from before. Ryou looked almost... scared. Guilty? And Bakura was snapping at him like he'd just shot the town cow. "I will... go check up on Mai," he finally said, knowing that neither of the two had even acknowledged his words before he, in record time, made it to the ground floor.

"Are you fucking insane?" Bakura continued, having only spared the blonde a quick glance. Never in his life would he have even thought in some wild, fucked up acid trip that Ryou would ever turn into the cold, _dangerous_ thing that he had become for a brief moment. But it had been broken, and the kid was back to look skittish, hand having been almost caught with the cookie jar.

"And what the fuck is your _problem_!" he continued, his furious and unnerved rant never seeming to end. "What, just because I'm a royal fucking prick, you think it's okay to fucking accuse me of shit right-off? Does that give you the right to assault me?" He could really get this guy fired! Of course, knowing his luck, Kaiba would stare them both down before tossing them out and telling them to either solve this like men or pack their things.

Ryou, however, seemed to be more affected by these words than he had been the cruel teasing. He almost visibly flinched, his head turning away. He felt so disgusting, so horrible. Like the lowest form of filth on the planet. Even lower than Bakura, and that was pushing the envelope as it was. He had no right to act out like he had. And even though he knew Bakura had taken his treasure (after all, who would travel across a building to deal such a low blow to someone they didn't even know?), he still was ashamed. That picture had been the only thing left of his mother and Amane, and just thinking about what they would have said or thought of him lashing out at anyone...

It made him sick.

He could see the disappointed look resting on his mother's normally peaceful features, before she would shake her head and turn away. That was what brought the sting to his eyes, and the unsettlement to his stomach. He was supposed to be protecting Bakura, not being downright ferocious to him...

That one photograph was his most prized possession over anything else. Why, out of everything, did Bakura have to take _that_?

He finally lifted his head, morose eyes meeting the taller male's only for a second. It was hard to look at him. "I'm sorry, but..." He trailed off, his lithe fingers wringing at each other. "Just please, give me that picture back." He just felt so horrible. Sure the guy was cruel, but it was no reason to act victimized. Surely Bakura couldn't know that it meant quite this much to him.

The said male, however, didn't seem to be buying into this act. Anyone who went that quickly from one extreme to the other and weren't bleeding from a vaginal cavity were faking. There was just no fucking way... even a bipolar nut, which Ryou clearly was, wouldn't be quite this intense. The kid must have realized that he wasn't going to get the stupid photograph back by force, so he was trying another route: pity. He was trying to get fucking pity, to make Bakura feel guilty and then, by some act of redeeming kindness, patch things up.

Yeah-fucking-right.

The blue-eyed male didn't enjoy getting fucked with.

"I don't know what 'picture' you keep going on about, but I sure as hell don't have it." And he turned, grabbed his chair, and sat back down in it, glaring at the feminine man. "Now if you'll kindly get away from me, I might be able to actually keep my lunch down and do some work."

Ryou, after all, had no proof whatsoever. And though that was a big problem in getting help, he _knew_ Bakura had done it. There wasn't a doubt in the young agent's mind about that much.

But how was he going to get it back...? Tears were bubbling up around his eyes, and he felt so damn hopeless... He didn't have a copy of that picture. It had been given to him, along with the frame that his sister had picked out, on his birthday. She had shoved it into his hands just before he stepped onto the bus headed for a summer camp, saying that it was a way to remember her while he was away.

That was the last time he ever saw her alive.

He had come home far too late, and now that photograph was all he had of them left, and he treasured it as he did their memory.

He couldn't speak a word of this to Bakura, though. He already looked so weak in front of the other, and he hated himself for coming off that way, but this was the real him, pain included. He was strong, and brave, and scared, and weak all at once. He was _human_, which was more than what could be said for the taller male before him.

His heart ached, and he felt as if he had no other choice than to give up. Bakura was so terrible... he was such a monster... Pleading didn't work, nor did anger. Nothing would. The older man was just... just absolutely horrible. Nothing, it seemed, would change that fact.

With a solemn nod, Ryou turned, going back to his desk, trying to hide his tears. God, men didn't cry. They just didn't, especially not in public. But he couldn't _help_ it. That was the biggest wound he had, and Bakura had just dug a knife into it and then rubbed salt on afterwards.

Sitting down in his chair, the green-eyed male stared at the papers on his desk, only half-finished being edited, but he couldn't find the strength to continue right now. Any other prank he could have tolerated so easily... Hell, he wasn't even asking Bakura to apologize or to make it up to him, no – he was only asking for the picture. But he wasn't about to start searching for it, as badly as he wanted it – no, _needed_ it – back. It could have been anywhere, and he had nowhere to start, save for perhaps the other's desk. And going through a coworker's desk was not only against policy, but it wasn't _right_. Shifting, he set his arms on the tabletop and let his head move to sink into them, hiding from the world the only way he could right now. He honestly was no longer sure if he could even stay on the case. Sure Bakura made everything fly to Hell in a handbasket at a second's notice, but Ryou was truly considering just quitting. This wasn't benefitting anyone, and he was no longer certain at all that he even _would_ save the other if or when it came down to it – not if this kept up. And he didn't want to be that person. He didn't want to lose the kindness his heart held for every living creature. He didn't want to lose part of himself just to put up with someone else's shit.

Throughout the entire show, Bakura had started fidgeting irritably, unable to keep his eyes on only the computer screen. They kept flicking over to the younger male's desk, and every single time they saw a more despondent person slowly breaking down. As pathetic as the attempt was, he began to feel that filthy sort of nagging somewhere in the back of his mind, asking if he might had possibly gone just a tad too far this time. But no, he was too far into the game, now. He couldn't go back, and he _wouldn't_. Besides, Ryou must have other pictures! This whole thing was just so... so stupid!

And yet, he'd initiated the entire thing, hadn't he?

No, the guy deserved it for being such a pussy! If he didn't start to grow a backbone...

But he had one. And he had no problem in lashing that into the pale-eyed man's face only a few minutes ago.

Though, now, people were beginning to file back in, some alone, and others chatting amongst themselves. And every single one of them cast Ryou a glance, and it was only a matter of time before someone asked what was wrong. And as much as he was an annoyance, a bastard...

Where was the pride? There was none, not in this. Not in making someone fucking _cry_. It would have been fine if the other had just kept himself to-fucking-gether, but no! He had to go and take it so damn hard... It would have been amusing to watch him get into a fit, looking for the photograph. But he wasn't. He had given up, and it wouldn't take too awful long before everyone found out exactly what had happened, because Ryou would inevitably blame him. Everyone always did, and he deserved it nine out of ten times.

There was no bragging rights, no stories of this to laugh about in a bar later. Hell, he didn't even want to tell anyone about this period. He wanted to keep it to himself and bury the memory.

This really was too far. He'd finally crossed the fucking line, and over something so _worthless_.

Standing up, Bakura stormed over to the stairs, not wanting to bother waiting for the elevator.

He needed a cigarette.

---

He really couldn't say exactly how long he had been standing in front of the building he worked at, shifting between pacing mildly to standing still. Bakura, no matter what he did, couldn't seem to shake those images of the other about to fucking cry after being so... so fucking violent-looking... And every single flash of Ryou he saw in his mind, the worse he felt. He actually was growing a fucking conscience because a damn little fruit couldn't hold it together. All because he himself had done something stupid and immature. He should have just left the fucking thing alone, should have just gone to lunch. Should have just waited to bug the other later. Growling, he tossed the short stub of his cigarette down onto the gum-peppered concrete and roughly stomped it out, grinding it much harder than necessary. Then, almost immediately afterwards, he pulled a fresh one out, and went to light it, the soft click of his lighter bringing minimal comfort. As he breathed out a cloud of thin smoke, he sighed heavily, feeling so utterly discontented. He wanted to go for a walk, but he wasn't sure when he'd be back, and he wasn't exactly allowed much break time. And so, his foot simply began to tap, trying to let out the excess energy from his body.

What if the kid couldn't take it and actually _quit_? Left the company entirely? That would be his fault. And everyone would know it. He wouldn't get respected or feared looks any longer. No, they would be scornful, and it wouldn't matter what he fucking did afterwards; he doubted any of those people in that place would forget an incident like that. He was no longer worried about getting fired for harassment, though, because the more he let his brain mingle on the idea, the more he seemed to find that the green-eyed male was one of those who kept their problems to themselves. He probably wouldn't even tell anyone, but even then, they would know. They would blame Bakura.

And the thing that was possibly the worst about it was that they would be right.

It wouldn't be so bad if the kid packed up and left because he couldn't take mild annoyances or terrible co-workers. What would be bad is if he packed up and left because he had been broken and lost the will the live. But... Tossing the butt down onto the ground, Bakura smashed it just as violently as he had the first. It was a fucking _picture_. This was driving him up the fucking _wall_!

Storming up to the doors, he entered the main lobby, paying Mai no heed as she gave him a raised eyebrow, though she kept her mouth shut, going back to writing down numbers on a pad.

By the time he reached the third floor, he had decided that he would wait until after work hours to put the damn thing back into place. Sure, it might mean that he was the bigger man if he just handed it back, but he felt... he felt ashamed. And that bothered him too much to be a big _fucking _man. The fact that he was going to do this in the first place should have said something!

But as he stepped around the corner, he saw the other hadn't moved from his spot, still looking absolutely crushed. And... Oh, Jesus-fucking-Christ...

The younger man's shoulders were quivering slightly, and if Bakura listened closely, he could hear what sounded like a heavy, wet sniffle.

Suddenly, he felt the anger that he previously had aimed at himself turn outward, turn towards this person who was so weak and pathetic. Ryou needed to learn that the fucking world wasn't amazing and happy, and that people were going to treat him like shit. He wasn't any more special than any of the rest of the cattle, and he wouldn't get privileges. He also needed to learn to suck it up when it came down to it, and that was what made Bakura the maddest.

Leaning down over the other, his hands gripping the edge of the wood so tightly his knuckles flushed all color out, Bakura hissed darkly above the kid's head, "Stop acting like I shot your fucking mother." The fact that he felt guilty about the situation and Ryou was the one causing it made this inner fury burn only brighter and more intensely. In a sudden burst of cruelty – wanting to make the other stop being a damn crybaby, as well as to hurt the guy – the taller man added in a low voice, "Look, I tore the damn thing up and trashed it! Stop thinking you're going to get it back if you keep milking it!" The words left his mouth before he was even aware of _what_ he had said, and when his mind did grasp onto them, he found them to be stupid. Stupid _lies_. And then, with a stutter of second thought, he wondered if he had just made it certain that those things he didn't want to happen would. He backed up abruptly, standing tall, eyes unable to leave the slighter male as he finally lifted his head, tears pausing from his bloodshot and glassy-looking emerald orbs. It all happened faster than he could catch up on at the moment as he was suddenly pushed aside, Ryou bolting down the hall, throwing open the bathroom door and racing inside. It was followed by the sound of dry retching, and Bakura felt that every person in the office space was looking at him. It might have just been paranoia, and he would never truly know if it was or not, because he didn't turn to look.

The F.B.I. agent felt as if his body was crumbling to the floor as he ran to keep from being sick on the beige carpet, mind replaying those horrible, terrible words over and over, haunting him without mercy. When Bakura had spoken them, Ryou had wanted to actually harm the other. _Hurt_ him. _Make_ him understand just what he himself was going through. But that passed, just as all his moments of cruelty did. It left him feeling weak and worthless, and as he kneeled there, bent over a toilet in one of the stalls, he couldn't stop himself from regretting everything. Regret that went as far back as going to that stupid camp in the first place, all the way up to him bringing that picture with him to this office that wasn't even his real job. He hated himself so badly for being so attached to something so easily broken, so easily taken from him, but he couldn't help that now.

Amane had always hated cameras, and she hated being in photos more. And yet, she had put on her best dress and best smile, just for him. Just so he would remember her that way, not knowing that she would never get the chance to welcome him home. That she would be found dead and bloody, atop their mother who had been put through unspeakable acts before finally being shot while the men proceeded to rob the house. They were the reason he had even become interested in his line of work. He was fighting for them, fighting to keep others from having to suffer from the loss of loved ones the way he had. And now he didn't even have that...

As he paid tribute to the porcelain god, his face damp, he wondered if he could find the pieces and tape them back together before he left. This was just too much. He might be physically strong, but he was so fragile when it came to things like this. That was what he'd always been told would bring him down, and it finally had.

What hurt the worst was that he hadn't been able to save his mother and sister a second time. Now they were lying in some trashcan, next to filth they were so much better than. But maybe it was a fitting irony – that had been taken from him, just like his real family.

And so, he folded his arms over the toilet seat, the cool surface feeling good against his feverish and flushed skin, and cried.

After he'd gotten it all out, allowed his body to push away the stress of everything, Ryou stood up to wash his face, cringing as he saw just how bad he really looked. His hair was mussed, and his face was blotchy and covered in tears and snot. That and his eyes were strained and red. Of course, a good scrub down with a damp paper towel and some time to let the whites of his eyes creep back into place was a much needed, and very welcomed thing. The young man felt quite a bit better after getting all of that out of system. He was still upset, but not to the intensity he had been at.

He could tape the picture back together, and though it would still look bad, it would be whole again. He would stay positive, and even though he had decided that he would, indeed, be quitting this case, he would go back to working his way up just as everyone else had. Maybe it really was that he just wasn't ready for something like this yet...

But as he found his desk, his head thumping lightly with the fist signs of an on-coming headache, something caught his eye, and, in a fleeting hope that he knew was utterly ridiculous, he glanced down quickly at what had, only minutes before, been a blank frame.

He almost teared up again, but he was more stunned than anything else. His photograph... it was... it was here. It was _whole_. It was...

His head shot up, face lit up amazingly from what it had been before – a broken shadow of his usual expression – only to see that the desk he faced was empty. The computer had been turned off, and it seemed as if Bakura had abandoned post, perhaps to go somewhere? Ryou was clueless, honestly, as to what the other would do, or where he would go when he was expected to be doing his work.

Tipping his head to the side, Ryou saw Jounouchi was boredly tapping the edge of the arachnid's cage with his shoe, obviously having nothing better to do with his time. Feeling a little strange, especially after the emotional rollercoaster he had just been on, the lanky male stood up, looking around the office almost nervously, as if trying to spot someone. "Er," he began, now standing beside his energetic coworker, feeling absolutely foolish that that was the best he could come up with the get the blonde man's attention. But it did work, and he met the other's dark-eyed gaze firmyl. "Where... is Bakura?" he asked, noting the strange look that passed over the other's tanned features. He seemed confused.

"I dunno," Jounouchi answered, giving a shrug to accompany his words. "He just got up and left. I think he went home," he added, almost as an afterthought. But why would Ryou care? Hadn't they just been fighting?

The silver-haired editor blinked. ...Went home? Was he... was he sick? Or maybe he just felt embarrassed or something or...

Or maybe Ryou was thinking far too highly of the other. Bakura may have given his prized possession back and in one piece, but that did not make him a nice person. Though... it didn't make him a monster, either. There had to be decency in there somewhere... he didn't have to give Ryou's photo back in the end, right? And yet he did... Of course, he'd taken it in the first place, and then lied about ruining it, but...

Believing that the older male had humanity in there somewhere was enough to give him the small amount of will to continue with the case.

Besides, he couldn't just quit on the first day. He'd look bad.

---

Though he had told Mai that he felt like shit (physically) and was going home, Bakura made quite a long detour in getting to his destination. And, in the end, he had stopped at the park and tried to walk his conscience off. It was a damn annoying thing to have, and even though he felt stupid for giving the damn kid his fucking worthless piece of paper back, he also felt relieved a little. At least now if the other left, he could feel that it wasn't entirely his fault.

With his hands jammed in his pockets, the tall male glared at the ground.

The main reason he had even done what he had was because... was because Ryou didn't yell at him again. There was no punishment. It was the same kind of feeling he used to get when he was a child, where he knew he'd done something horrible, and his mother didn't send him to his room or take away a privilege. She simply stood there, looking down at him with those eyes so damn full of disappointment, and then walked away. That was the worst feeling he had ever experienced to this day, and he doubted he would ever find a worse one. Did that make him selfish, then? To want to right a problem just to make himself feel better? ...Well, yes, it did. But did motives matter when it came to right and wrong?

Fuck, he needed another cigarette.

It must have been forty or so minutes before he finally did start towards his apartment, mind still crammed to the brim with conflicting thoughts. And even as he got out and slammed the door of the vehicle, making his way up the flight of stairs, it refused to quiet, and he felt that he would be driven towards the edge of insanity if he didn't get some peace, some relief from it. So instead, he thought about his home, and how he needed to clean it a little. It was dingy and small, but he made it be enough. Besides, it wasn't about space, it was about how well he put it to use, right?

He was mildly distracted by the sound of footsteps behind him, but he figured that it must have been that damn creepy neighbor who always seemed like he was following you, and even though you knew he couldn't possibly be, he was always going wherever you were. Bakura was honestly surprised that no one had called the police on him for stalking yet. He was too tired to be paranoid though, and didn't bother looking back. All he really wanted to do was get to sleep, and if he just walked a few more feet...

He felt something against his spien, and at first, before the realization hit, he thought that it was simply some rude asshole who wanted to get by. But the weight didn't leave, and he opened his mouth, moving to turn his head to say something, when he was abruptly cut off.

"You're going to walk to your apartment like nothing is wrong, and you're going to let me in, too."

...What was this? Was some jackass going to jump out and tell him he'd been punked? His right knee was already throbbing pitifully at the excess walking he'd done today, and now he was about to be fucking mugged? Was this fucking karma coming to finally kick his ass for everything he'd done? Apparently giving the damn picture back hadn't been enough.

"I hope you're not expecting anything worth stealing," he hissed, more than just a little aggravated. This was just the perfect end to a perfect day, wasn't it? He felt the metal dig into his back and he growled, whipping his head to the side to bark about how a little consideration goes a long way in robbing people, when he got a rather severe jab in response.

"Don't turn around!" It wasn't up for discussion, it seemed. "So keep quiet and do what I asked."

Bakura almost spun around and punched the son of a bitch square in the face, but he found that he didn't have the strength. He was just too damn waned, too exhausted. That and in case that really was a loaded, working gun, he really didn't feel like being shot on top of everything else. It felt like some horrible silly dream where he knew that he couldn't die, even though things looked and felt real. But he knew it was.

He'd been mugged before, a few years prior, but it had only been his wallet and the punk hadn't had a gun. It had never been quite this close to home – literately _or_ figuratively.

"I'm assuming that telling you I've had a really shitty day wouldn't do a damn thing, would it?" He almost laughed. God, this was so ridiculous. _So fucking ridiculous_. "If you clean my place out, just don't take my mattress. I'd like to go to sleep."

It was then that he heard a click, one that he had heard far too many times from cheap action movies; the cock of a pistol. The situation suddenly seem much more clear, much more like reality. He was right in front of his door, and he could get shot. He could get fucking _shot_. His home, the one place that had been his safe haven...

"I'm not here to steal your shit," the strange began, his voice vaguely accented. The tip of the gun pressed harshly into Bakura's back. "I'm here to put a hole in your head."

And then the fog was back. The fear began to dissipate to anger, to fury, to annoyance at having his whole fucking day ruined right to the end. He wasn't scared of the weapon anymore, nor was he worried about death. Fuck, if he was going to kick it, he might as well go young and hot! "Then pull the trigger, you fucking coward!" he spat, his hands fisting. "You think it'll be safer for you to kill me in my place? People will hear the bang and come out to see you running out of my door! If you do it out here, at least you'll get a head start!"

He had just goaded a murderer with a readied weapon, aiming to blow his brain across his door.

And yet, for some reason, he wasn't ready for what was coming when the gun went off

**.: Chapter end :.**

I just wanted to add that, the reason Ryou was being as emotional as he was, was partially because he'd been holding it all in for years, and this day was just going from shit to Hell, and the damn just fell apart. So there.

-Cecilia


End file.
